Why the First Day of Summer Is More Bittersweet Than You Think

Ah, the first day of summer. Its arrival is heralded by chirping birds, abundant sunshine (if we are lucky), and the fragrant bloom of lavender in the garden. But, if you listen closely, there’s a bittersweet symphony playing in the background. One that, like the scent of sunscreen or the soft hiss of a soda can being opened, is intrinsically tied to the summer solstice yet often goes unnoticed in our collective rush to soak in the season’s glory.

The first day of summer is, paradoxically, also the day when sunlight starts to dwindle. It’s a subtle change, of course. You’d be hard-pressed to notice it amidst the joy and festivities of the longest day of the year. But for those of us who dread winter more than a root canal (me, it’s me), the summer solstice is a nagging reminder that endless gray skies, single-digit temperatures, and gloves, hats, and insulated boots will be back in the picture before we know it.

The first day of summer

That twinge you just felt? That’s the ‘summer season’ anxiety setting in. No, I’m not talking about trepidation over wearing a bikini. I’m talking about the sense of sadness that comes with the summer solstice. And while I definitely identify as a Debbie Downer, I know I am not alone in the mixed feelings that the first day of summer brings.

The start of summer brings so much promise and anticipatory fun. But along with the celebrationEach flip-flop thunk on the pavement, basketball echo on the driveway, splash from the pool and evening spent swatting mosquitos on the patio as we sip limoncello, is a reminder that time is rushing on. It feels like just yesterday that we were ringing in the new year. How can we be halfway through the year already?

Heck, it feels like just yesterday my kids were splashing in the kiddie pool and braving the diving board in their swim sweaters while I went hoarse trying to get their attention to slather yet another bottle of sunshine onto bony shoulders.

But the kids are long gone. I mean, they’re not actually gone. Two still live at home, and the third is here for a brief pit stop this summer between college and grad school. But it’s been years since I’ve kept watch at the side of the pool or tried to rub milky white sunscreen into the wet skin of a wiggling child. Okay, maybe I don’t miss that particular activity. But still, where has the time gone?

One thing is certain, the calendar is ruthless in its honesty. And time is going to keep on ticking away.

Summer sunshine

Where I live, the bounty of good weather is precious and fleeting, like a fresh batch of brownies of Fourth of July brownies (the kind with the icing and patriotic sprinkles) in a house full of chocoholics. Just four months of green leaves before it’s back to the barren, brown landscape that dominates the rest of the year. Sigh.

Around here, brilliant blue skies, lush green lawns, and the sweet smell of sunshine are a special treat. And like all treats, we want to savor and enjoy it. But just like the eight-scoop kitchen sink sundae, complete with a whole can of whipped cream, no matter how hard we try to make it last, the summer just melts away.

And then, there’s the matter of the kids . . . Aw, the kids . . .

Summers past

Long gone are those endless summer days of their childhood, the ones filled with poolside popsicles, sand art crafts, fairy gardens, memory marathons, and visits to Deer Park. These days, their summers are just as packed as their school days. They’re still here for now. At least to sleep. But between tennis and golf and work and friends and umpteen trips to Starbucks, it feels like they’re orbiting in their own worlds.

We see them occasionally for family meals, s’mores at the fire pit, or an episode of Breaking Bad or Only Murders in the Building.

The only thing even remotely similar to summers past is the perpetual stickiness of the kitchen counter. But I try not to dwell on that for a myriad of reasons.

To make my melancholy even more monumental, I suspect this is the last summer where the whole clan is under the same roof. My oldest is home from college, but he’ll be off to grad school in Florida in August. My daughter is on the cusp of her senior year (I’m not crying), and my baby will be a high school freshman. (Okay, maybe I’m crying). The nest isn’t empty yet, but each day it feels as though another box has been packed and taken to the curb.

I’m not trying to put a damper on your summer spirit, I promise.

But I am a sucker for special occasions, even ones as simple as a solstice. Transitions get me every time. Although I don’t [usually] throw a temper tantrum when it’s time to switch gears, I always suffer from the post-holiday blues.

Some might say I’m a sentimental fool. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. (At least they’re a heck of a lot cheaper than the latest designer bag.) Sometimes I wish I weren’t this way. I wish I wasn’t the one weeping in the bathroom on the first and last day of school (yes, still, even this year) or sobbing at those sappy coffee commercials where the son surprises his mom on Christmas morning. Do you know the ones I mean? But that’s just me. At almost fifty, I don’t think I’m going to change.

So it’s no surprise that the bittersweet tune of summer’s arrival makes me a bit more reflective, a little nostalgic, and perhaps, even a touch maudlin.

But don’t worry. I’m not going to let this melancholy ruin the too-few perfect days of summer we have left. Nope. No way. No how.

I’m going to change the tune.

Savoring Summer

I’m going to take a lesson from my younger self and create my own summer bucket list this year. It’s so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day and let time just pass by. But instead of looking back with regret in August, I want this to be a summer I will never forget. And the easiest way to do that is to be intentional with my time.

This summer, I’m going to seize the sunlight! My grown-up summer bucket list is going to be filled not just with things to do, but also with moments to savor.

Picnics in the park. Family movie nights. Bonfires. Baseball games. Hiking with the dogs. Kayaking. Homemade lemonade. I’m going to stay up later. And sleep in a little bit. I’m going to eat the ice cream and drink the beer. I’m going to say yes when my kids make suggestions or invite me to do something. I’m going to make time for my friends. And put my feet in the sand.

I’m going to smile and laugh and even sing (you’re lucky you can’t hear me). Want to create a summer bucket list of your own. Check out this post for some great ideas.

Summer is my favorite season, after all. Right now I’m counting the days until I can bask in the yearlong glow of sweet, sweet summertime. One thousand four hundred fifty-give or take. I was serious about the counting. I promise I won’t throw my baby bird out of the nest, but when he spreads his wings, I’ll be the one flying south.

In the meantime, I’ll be enjoying all the margaritas and beach reads I can get my hands on.

And I’ll be doing my best to make it a summer to remember.

Off we go!